


how does the sun even fit in the sky?

by watchtheleaves



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Hufflepuff!Race, I’m sorry, M/M, albert loves plants, and they were prefects, but not really, everyone loves food, hufflepuff!albert, minor javey, minor newsbians - Freeform, minor spelmer, omg they were prefects, race is a nerd, so many hufflepuffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchtheleaves/pseuds/watchtheleaves
Summary: albert dasilva’s fifth year in hogwarts should go as planned: without any obstacles, without any bumps, without any resurfacing enemies.one can only dream.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Spot Conlon/Elmer (Newsies)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	1. the color yellow

**Author's Note:**

> HI! hi hi hi!!
> 
> this is my first ever multi-chaptered ralbert fic, and i’m /so/ excited to see where it goes!
> 
> no trigger warnings, just albert being very annoyed of life.

Albert _hated_ the color yellow.

See, it wasn’t unfounded, his hatred. It was that yellow was simply a stupid, stupid color. It was either too pale and faint and lame, or too brilliant and loud and annoying.

So you can imagine his discomfort.

“Hufflepuffs, follow me,” he said, everything but pushing a herd of first-years down the stairs and into the kitchen corridor, quickly showing them through the steps to get inside. He tapped a specific barril from the stack and sang ‘ _Helga Hufflepuff_ ’ and with a bunch of _oh’s_ and _woah’s_ , they were in.

He rolled his eyes. Yellow, _everywhere_. And that was his home for the rest of the semester. Again.

It wasn't that he didn't like being there — Albert loved Hogwarts, he really did, more than anything in the world. He loved magic, he loved to be linked to his mother, in a way. 

(And not to his father.)

He loved so much of it; he loved Herbology, he loved the kitchens, he loved his friends, he loved Quidditch. The one thing he didn’t love was the shame, and by the time his fifth year rolled in, he was a little bit done with it.

You see, Albert wasn’t meant to be a Hufflepuff. In fact, he wasn’t even meant to be a wizard. His biological parents sure as hell didn’t raise him to be one — his mother, witch, died when he was two. His father, muggle, was as loving as charcoal. His foster parents were cool. They just never tried to step into the shoes of his former family. To Albert, sometimes, they were more like foster uncle and foster aunt.

Not that he ever complained.

“Red,” Jack Kelly had said when they ran into each other in the prefects’ carriage. Albert smiled at the nickname. “You’re the first one, hey. Sit.”

And Albert had sat. It was weird, because although they’d known each other for years, Jack now seemed older than him for the very first time. Maybe the Head Boy badge had something to do with it. He'd never really thought about the fact that they were two years apart — Jack's last year of school was beginning. Albert thought Hogwarts without Jack Kelly would be too different for his liking.

Davey Jacobs, the other Head Boy, had walked in seconds later, shortly followed by his sister, Sarah, Katherine Pulitzer, Sniper Wah, some kids Albert had never seen in his life, and—

Oh, _no_.

“Tony,” Jack had greeted. The boy hadn’t been ridiculously late, but he was the last one to arrive, and he had looked like he’d just ran a marathon to get there. “Nice of you to join us.”

“It’s Race, now, Kelly,” he had said, sitting without another word.

Albert couldn’t stop thinking about him, even hours later, which was very unfortunate, because they’d already be seeing the hell out of each other every day.

“Albert DaSilva,” Davey had read. “and Antonio Higgins. Hufflepuff prefects.”

Race had shifted a little at the lack of nickname, visibly annoyed, before speaking.

“Aren’t house prefects supposed to be one girl and one boy?”

“Yes, but Buttons didn’t want her position,” Jack explained. “And with such short notice you two were our closest thing to the original duo. Any problem?”

Albert huffed at the thought. He could easily think of a problem of two. Namely, the fact that Race was Albert’s brother’s ex-boyfriend. Or the fact that he was a pain in the ass. Or the fact that he hated his guts.

As soon as the first-years were inside the common room, he was considerably off-duty. His task for the first night was to get them to the dorms safe and sound. He ran a quick headcount and quickly stepped out of his imaginary Prefect Shoes.

“Albert,” he was startled by a voice. He laughed.

“Eliasz,” he greeted back. Elmer grimaced at the name.

“How was summer? Man, it’s been so long. C’mon, Romeo says he has a fuck-ton of candy and I wanna bet whatever I have to get it from him. Come on!”

Albert simply followed. His best friend could very easily turn into a two year-old boy in big social events like the first day of class. He didn’t really mind.

He glanced back and caught a glimpse of Race handling the waves of questions the kids threw at him. He felt a little guilty to not be of any help, but he quickly shrugged it off — they’d made it very clear that they’d stay out of each other’s ways as much as possible. You know, for the sake of the kids.

When Romeo jumped in his arms, he was, once again, not surprised. He heard all about their crazy summer adventures and asked genuine questions — just because he didn’t have anything interesting to tell didn’t mean he felt bitter for his friends’ experiences. At least they knew better than to ask about _his_ summer, at that point.

There were new kids in their group, that year. Albert could only assume it was Romeo’s doing, because he made it his personal duty to take at least one Hufflepuff under his wing at the beginning of each year. In first year, it had been Albert. In second year, Elmer. Then followed Crutchie, Mush, and that year, there were three new kids. Albert already knew Buttons from Quidditch practice, and Henry from Herbology.

“Jojo,” Romeo introduced, pointing fingers as they sat in the circle of people. “Albert, Elmer.”

“We know each other,” Elmer smiled. “From Potions. And detention after Potions.”

Albert raised an eyebrow. “When and _how_ did you ever get detention?”

Elmer simply shrugged.

“So,” Romeo said, opening a gigantic bag of candy he’d gotten from god-knows-where. The only rule in the group was to never ask. “Buttons, dear. You turned down the Prefect position?”

Albert looked at her, and she shrugged.

“It’s frowned upon when Prefects date students.”

“Really?” Albert asked.

“Yeah,” Buttons laughed. “Sorry, man. Probably sucks.”

He thought about it. In five years, there weren’t many people he’d been interested in. Mainly because there weren’t many people who’d been interested in him. He shrugged.

“I’ll live.”

“You and Race seem to be doing fine, so far,” Jojo said and smiled. “You look like a good team.”

Elmer choked on a bean. Romeo took a deep breath. Crutchie raised both eyebrows.

“You could say that,” Elmer said between coughs. Albert elbowed him and he yelped.

“What? Aren’t you guys friends?” Jojo asked.

Romeo, who was almost crying of laughter, hid his face in his hands.

Crutchie explained. “They’re not. They were really good friends in first year, until Race—”

“Okay!” Albert put his hands together, smiling tightly. “That was fun. Jojo, did you know Elmer ate glue in second year?”

“Dude,” Elmer groaned. He didn’t mention the change of subject. “It was one time.”

“Which is one too many times to eat glue,” Henry said, for the first time since they sat together. The group laughed. Albert stuffed his mouth with a handful of candy and sat back, relaxing again.

That night, after putting kids to sleep, Albert wondered if it was too early in the year to take a trip into the kitchens. He quickly decided that it wasn’t — hell, he was a Prefect, now. He _made_ the rules. He stepped out of bed and down the stairs, almost nostalgic after not having done a night trip of those in three long months.

The connection to the kitchens was, by far, his favorite thing in the castle. He walked it like he'd know those corridors forever.

He froze in place by the door when he heard a voice and mentally punched the air.

“Hannah, you’re a plum.”

“And you’re my best customer, Antonio.”

“It’s Racetrack, now—” He trailed off when their eyes met, and Albert mentally cursed himself from not moving earlier. Through Race’s face ran a gazillion emotions — he looked surprised, then taken aback, then desperate, then angry, then tired.

“Albert!” Greeted Hannah, the main cook. She smiled enormously. “ _Mon cheri_ , how was summer?”

Albert approached the woman slowly, like it wasn't safe. Hannah smiled a warm, old-people smile, one of a person who'd seen everything. She was tall, skinny, and had a crooked nose. If anyone was to make Albert feel at home during his stay, it was her.

“Hot,” he said.

“You’re so tall, oh, boy. What do they feed you, here, kids?”

Race laughed, or something of the sort, but his eyes were still anchored to Albert. “I don’t know. What _do_ you feed us, Hannah?”

The woman giggled, moving to grab a tray of pastries.

“Well. It’s the first night, so I don’t have many leftovers. Kids eat like pigs, the first day. But you can share these. Be a doll, Albert, and turn the lights off when you leave?”

And off she was to her nook in the dungeons. Race reached out for a cookie and Albert mirrored. They sat in silence for a moment.

“First-years get weirder every day,” Race spoke around his food. Albert raised an eyebrow, surprised at the attempt at conversation. “One of them asked me if the water we drank came from the ocean or the rain.”

“The water from the ocean comes from the rain,” Albert explained.

“That’s what I said.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The air was dense. Albert suddenly didn’t think it’d been such a great idea to go out.

“Haven’t seen you at Dueling Club recently.”

“Haven’t seen you fucking my brother recently.”

“Come on, Albert,” Race groaned. “That was two years ago. Even Spot forgave me. Why the hell can’t you let go?”

Albert took a deep breath, hands made fists. The kitchens were quiet, that late at night. One glance, and Race was quiet, too. When he wasn’t careful, curls would fall on his forehead sloppily. He wore an old, worn-out t-shirt that had been part of the Astronomy Club uniform. He was only a few inches shorter than him, but the pajamas made him look even smaller.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep talking, but yellow was really good on Race. Ugly as it was.

“Look, Al—” Albert raised an eyebrow. Race stepped back. “—bert. Albert. It’s been, like, four years since our fight. And two years since I dated Spot. And I said sorry a billion times. I don’t know what you want me to do, anymore.”

And, truth be told, Albert didn’t know, either. Something sat in the very end of his stomach, twisting, paining. He didn’t want the apologies — it wasn’t that he didn’t believe Race was sincere. It was that he believed he was. And believing had done him a lot of harm in the past.

“I don’t care about _sorry_ , Race,” he spat, turning around. “I get that you’re not used to people not liking you but really, man, stop trying.”

Albert _hated_ being wrong. That’s why he walked out — to hold onto the idea that, for once in his life, maybe Race would let something go.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so scared of that.


	2. hospitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> albert gets injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, here's chapter two!! this one took me a lot longer than the first one to get out, and i'm not really sure i like it, but oh, well. enjoy, stay home, and wash your hands!

Albert  _ hated _ hospitals.

That’s not so weird a thing to hate, in fact — it’s rarer to find a kid who’s fond of hospitals than a kid who isn’t. Albert wasn’t scared of them, contrary to popular belief, he just despised them to no end. If it came to choosing between bleeding out or running off to St. Mungo, he’d still need a lot of convincing.

It was unfortunate, too, because Albert was more often than not having to tend to his own wounds. He’d gotten pretty damn good at it, if he could say so himself, but it didn’t erase the eventual visit to the Hospital Wing.

Maybe, if he hated hospitals so, it would’ve been wiser to stay away from Quidditch altogether — not everyone was a born seeker, and the Hufflepuff team was doing just fine before he tried out. They probably didn’t need him when he showed up in already battered equipment, two years prior, and decided to  _ just try it out _ . Because  _ it’d be fun _ , and  _ it wouldn’t hurt to try _ .

Albert needed to stop listening to his friends.

Turns out, he was a natural keeper. Born to the breed. A perfectly timed addition after the graduation and departure of their last one. Albert fit right in with the Quidditch team — Hufflepuffs were a pretty tight-knit group. Most of his teammates were part of his friend group already, and  _ everyone _ liked Jack, so he counted as a friend, too. There was only one person he could think of that he wasn’t particularly fond of playing with. And of course,  _ he _ had to be their golden seeker.

After two years of playing, injuries weren’t a big deal anymore. Hell, for Albert, injuries were  _ never _ a big deal. He could be bleeding from the head and still go out for dinner. He’d been brought up that way — suck it ‘til you fuck it. As vulgar as it sounded, it’d been working pretty well, so far.

“So soon, Albert?” Asked Madame Grapes as she took notice of Elmer dragging him into the Hospital Wing. Albert hissed when, at the attempt of some resistance, his injured shoulder sent him for a loop. “What happened this time?”

Albert sat in one of the beds and sighed, wondering how he’d managed to end up visiting the one place he ought to stay away from before he even got a chance to walk around the castle. Third day and already badly injured must’ve been some kind of personal record.

“Shoulder. Fell. Quidditch,” he explained simply. Madame Grapes shook her head and turned to Elmer with a sympathetic expression. The boy seemed to be moments away from ripping his hair out.

“Elmer. There’s some Shepherd’s Pie left by the counter. Help yourself.”

Madame Grapes was, without a doubt, one of Albert’s adult allies in the castle. No one knew where she’d gotten the nickname, but they learned the hard way to never ask for a real last name. She was a short, somewhat chubby woman, with clear brown skin and a scar that ran from her chin to just above her eye. She looked ten times more intimidating than she actually was — to Albert, at least.

The Hospital Wing was run by Madame Grapes, the titular Mediwizard, along with the assistant, Mrs. Sylvestre, a much skinnier and scarier woman. They both had seen Albert an awful lot over the years — Madame Grapes also taught Herbology on some afternoons. She seemed to be quite fond of Hufflepuffs, unlike her partner. Albert wondered sometimes if they were married, but deemed it impossible for anyone to find love in such an environment. Elmer had said once or twice that they would make a good couple.

“How the hell do you break a  _ shoulder _ ?” Elmer asked around a slice of pie. He was probably mad or worried, but undertones were harder to read when concerned about not dying from shock or pain. “Your brother’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled.

Albert rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell him. I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it, now, huh?” Madame Grapes scoffed behind him, making a bee-line towards the first-aid kit that seemed to sport Albert’s name. “There’s no need to tell your brother — he’s already on his way.”

Before Albert got to the end of the word ‘ _ what _ ’, a very sweaty, very annoyed Spot Conlon walked through the doors and groaned. Albert could almost hear Elmer gulp. He turned towards Madame Grapes, who smiled all-knowingly, and whispered ‘ _ how? _ ’.

Spot Conlon wasn’t scary. Not to Albert’s eyes, at least, which could be linked to the fact that they’d known each other for ten long years. To everyone else, Spot’s presence was almost as heavy and intimidating as the one of a three-headed dragon. Albert once got the rumor around that his brother could actually spit fire.

“What the  _ hell _ , Albert?”

He tried to shrug and yelped. Elmer’s face fell to his hands — he was doomed.

“How the— How do you break a shoulder?” Spot echoed Elmer.

“It’s not broken, it’s dislocated,” Albert said. Madame Grapes smiled to herself. Albert had been a frequent visitor, yes, but he’d also been an amazing apprentice. It was too bad that the kid repelled the idea of medicine so strongly because he would make a great Healer if only he wanted to.

Spot scoffed and sat in one of the visitor chairs, next to Elmer. Albert wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or his best friend’s face had actually turned red.

Madame Grapes moved her wand in front of Albert’s face to call for his attention and raised an eyebrow. “You dislocated a shoulder, then. What’s the procedure?”

Albert slumped. “Do we really have to? It doesn’t hurt that much, maybe I could—” Madame Grapes looked at him with the sternest face she could convey. With a sigh, he backtracked, “Okay, fine. Salamander blood to heal, and to fix the bones we use  _ Ferula _ .”

“The bandaging charm,” Spot and Elmer said in unison. Madame Grapes nodded.

“Ah, excellent reflexes, boys! Five points to each.”

Elmer pumped his fist, and Spot just eyed him before focusing back on Albert. “So,” he said, “that’s it? Spell, potion, and he’s good to go?”

Madame Grapes nodded, taking out a small glass bottle with a scarlet liquid inside. Albert felt acid running up his throat at the bare sight of the ingredient. Salamander blood was about ten times as bitter as human blood, and five times as thick, so it was also considerably harder to swallow at once.

“So,” Madam Grapes said, shaking the bottle before opening it and pouring a measured quantity in a shiny metallic container. “Drink up, Albert, you know the drill. You can do the spell yourself if you drink this, alright?”

Albert eyed the drink like it was his worst enemy and closed his eyes before gulping it down. Spot reached out and patted his knee sympathetically.

It wasn’t until an hour later, with a newly-functioning shoulder and the urge to get the taste of blood out of his system, as they headed to the Dining Hall with the moon shining above the three, that Albert turned to Spot in wonder.

“Who even told you I was injured?”

Spot’s face shone in doubt for only a quarter of a second before he continued to walk casually and said, “Race told me.”

Albert stopped dry. Elmer bit his lower lip.

“ _ What _ ?”

“Yeah,” Spot shrugged. “I was finishing something up after Study Hall an’ he came looking for me. Told me not to tell you.”

Taking a deep breath for the sake of his sanity, Albert asked, “Why would Ton—  _ Race _ go to you for something like this?”

Spot shrugged once again, and Albert knew he wouldn’t get any more information from him. He groaned and marched towards the Dining Hall in a more steady, faster beat, ignoring the call from Elmer to wait for him.

With or without the uniform, Race was probably the easiest person to identify in a crowd, except for maybe Albert, whose red hair was always putting him in the spotlight. Race didn’t have hair of any shiny color, but he always seemed to be the center of some conversation. He was a natural extrovert and amazing at making friends out of the shyest kids. That’s what had Albert so mesmerized, back when they were no older than eleven years old and the freshest of freshmen. And that’s what helped him find him at dinner, that night.

He slammed both hands against the table in front of him and felt his skin burn when a number of eyes focused on him, but he was only looking at Race.

“Can we talk?” He said, through clenched teeth. He knew Race would read the anger in his face within the second — he was good with people.  _ Empathetic _ . So he turned to walk out of the Dining Hall and towards somewhere quieter, and he knew Race would follow.

“Are you o—” Race began to ask when they stepped out into the dark and empty schoolyard. Owls could be heard in the distance.

“What’s wrong with you?” Albert snapped. Race took a step back. “Why would you tell Spot about my injury?”

“I—”

“No, I get it. You probably just wanted some time alone with him, right? For old time’s sake? Fucking hell, ‘Tonio.”

“Al, I didn’t—”

“What I don’t get,” Albert kept talking, spitting words. “Is  _ why _ you keep acting like we’re friends. We’re not okay,  _ Racer _ , you’re not my friend and I’m not yours and you need to understand that, alright? So stay away from me, stay away from my brother, and leave these things to the people I actually want in my life.”

Race winced, looking away. The wind made singsong noises.

“I didn’t  _ want _ to go look for Spot,” he whispered. “A Prefect needs to warn family members in the castle when a student gets injured. It’s the rules.”

Albert’s eyes snapped to Race, who was still staring at the ground. He was right.

“If you don’t wanna forgive me, that’s okay, I get it. Just stop fucking yelling at me.”

Albert  _ hated _ feeling like an asshole. It was nothing but a crappy feeling that would take hours to leave his chest, and he despised everything about it. He hated making someone else feel bad when they didn’t deserve it, and he hated that their hurt face wouldn’t leave his mind for weeks, making him feel guilty to no end.

Race didn’t like to be yelled at. Well, when it comes to it, no one really likes to be yelled at. Some people just care less, or they handle it better. Race couldn’t take it. That was maybe his one flaw, the only fault in his otherwise constantly loud and outspoken personality.

When Race turned on his heels and anything but ran back towards the Dining Hall with his hands making fists, Albert really couldn’t blame him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cursing silently.

Elmer eyed him with one perked eyebrow when he returned to the table, cheeks red from exposition to the cool air. He shrugged him off and focused on eating whatever was on his plate.

He only really wondered  _ how _ he and Race would manage to be Prefects all year when his head hit the pillow and his mind started to wander. Was he really ready to make any compromises and call a truce? Albert knew himself, and he knew that he wasn’t.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Romeo complained from the bed next to his. Albert groaned and flicked his wand to turn the lights off.

He would have plenty of time to figure it out, and he would find a solution, he was sure. All he had to do was get himself to sleep and stop thinking about Race’s face before running away.

That was a long night for Albert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are veeery appreciated!! i'm @NEWSIESLIVE on twitter and @whizzcrwins on tumblr :)

**Author's Note:**

> wash your hands!! follow me on twitter (@NEWSIESLIVE)!! leave a comment!!


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